


Stay

by tonberry



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Makkachin is there too, georgi tries to be helpful, mid-afternoon drinking because why not, they're both melodramatic, two or three years before the series i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonberry/pseuds/tonberry
Summary: Victor's not as unreadable as he thinks he is, and Georgi is always full of advice.





	Stay

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

Victor blinks. ‘ _Do you remember’_ is one of his least favourite openings to a question. But Georgi, sitting across from him, looks more curious than accusing. He relaxes a little and runs his fingers lightly over the handle of his coffee cup.

“Not… specifically. It was a long time ago.”

Thunder rumbles softly in the distance; the window behind Georgi frames the dreary autumnal streets of St. Petersburg. He watches droplets of rain trickle slowly down the glass as Georgi shrugs.

“It was. I probably only ask because I remember it so clearly.”

Victor tries not to roll his eyes as Georgi stares into his coffee, expression melancholy. “Did you get dumped again? It would explain the sudden introspection, I suppose.”

There’s a short pause before he answers, tone clipped. “It was mutual.”

Definitely dumped.

“Well…” Victor casts around for something to say. He’s not good at this. “I’m sure you’re better off without.” He tries for an encouraging smile, but when Georgi finally looks up he just raises an eyebrow. Not convinced, then.

“Are you?”

Victor frowns. Why is Georgi trying to make this about _him_? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Thunder sounds again, closer this time, and the rain blurs the street through the window beyond recognition. Georgi sets down his coffee and leans back in his chair, eyeing Victor speculatively.

“What I remember most about meeting you is that you were happy, then.”

It feels as though the cold rain is trickling down his back, freezing the smile on his face. “I’m happy,” he says, though somehow the voice doesn’t quite sound like his own. “Why would I not be?”

“You _are_ quite good at hiding it.”

Victor pushes himself to his feet, and his cup clatters against its saucer. Funny, he didn’t think he’d put his hands down that heavily.

“Well, this was nice, but I really have to go now. I promised Yakov something. See you tomorrow, okay?” The words fall out in a rush even as lightning flashes outside and Georgi sits up straight, looking slightly alarmed.

“You can’t mean to go outside in this weather, Vitya.”

But he’s already pulling notes out of his wallet and placing them on the table. And then he smiles - and it’s his smile for the cameras, one that doesn’t even waver. He’s always been good at those.

Georgi just looks slightly concerned. “That’s your interview face. Look, sit down, all right? We don’t have to talk about it here.”

They’re starting to attract attention now, but Victor ignores the stares and whispers. It’s nothing new, after all. “Mm, we don’t have to at all, because there’s nothing to talk about.” He picks up his coat. “See you at the rink.” As he turns and walks away, he hears Georgi sigh loudly. And people say _Victor’s_ a drama queen.

He slips his coat on and heads for the door; the cafe is full at this point, because going outside is obviously a terrible idea. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, wondering if he’s really going to do it.

A crack of thunder splits the air, the bell of the cafe door chimes merrily, and Victor steps outside. He’s immediately soaked, hair plastered to his head and freezing rain dripping from his nose and eyelashes, working its way down his neck and inside his collar. He makes it a respectful few steps away from the cafe before breaking out into a run.

Fortunately his apartment isn’t far away, but as he turns onto his street he hears a shout from behind him. Victor slows to a stop by a lamppost and turns, not even surprised to see a drenched, pitiful-looking Georgi catching up with him. Well, he supposes he can’t look much better himself.

“What’s _wrong_ with you, Vitya?”  Georgi sounds annoyed. Really, he has no right to be. _Victor’s_ the one who was harassed and chased through the rain.

“Oh?” Victor only has a couple of centimeters on Georgi, but he draws himself up to his full height anyway, and narrows his eyes. “I thought you knew all about me?”

Georgi rubs at his temple, looking pained. “Can we just go inside? Neither of us can afford to get sick right now.”

“You really don’t know how to let things go, do you?” Victor pushes his dripping hair back from his face and turns, walking up the narrow paved path to the apartment door.

“No,” Georgi agrees, and follows.

 

\----------

 

Victor strips as soon as he gets in the door. “Stay there,” he says, as Georgi drips all over the hardwood floor of the hallway. He gets a deadpan two-fingered salute in return. Makkachin’s thrilled with having an unusual guest to welcome, and as Victor leaves, he sees Georgi dropping to his knees to let Makkachin lick his face. His stomach twists, just a little, and he’s not sure why. He goes through to his bedroom to find towels, T-shirts, sweatpants… he pauses at the underwear. Maybe not.

He changes and towels his hair dry perhaps a _little_ slower than necessary, because he is not a petty person, not at all, then finally returns to the hall. There’s the slightest twinge of guilt when he sees that Georgi is shivering, now standing, with one hand still petting Makkachin - but it doesn’t last long because he’s immediately on the receiving end of another thoughtful look. He throws the towel-wrapped bundle at Georgi’s head, and goes to the kitchen instead. Makkachin, the traitor, does not follow.

He needs a beer.

 

\----------

 

It’s three in the afternoon, and they’ve been getting drunk on Victor’s sofa. The sound of the rain has since faded, but given Georgi’s lap is now acting as a comfortable pillow, Victor’s loath to say anything. Makkachin’s dozing, flopped out beside his legs.

“I’m a day younger than you, did you know that?” Georgi sounds faintly accusing.

“Yes,” Victor says, closing his eyes, “you’ve told me that at least once a year for the past seven years. I remember.”

Georgi strokes his hair, fingers deft. “Let me give you some advice.”

“Because you’re so much younger and wiser?” There’s something wrong with that sentence, Victor thinks, but Georgi seems to know just what he means.

“Exactly.” He says it with the careful dignity of the thoroughly inebriated. “So here it is: you need more in your life than skating.”

Victor opens his eyes again, blinking up at the ceiling. There’s a faint crack in it, spidering out from the light fitting. How has he never noticed that before? His earlier irritation has evaporated, leaving a strange kind of melancholy in its place. “That’s it?” The hand in his hair stills, so he reaches up and pulls it down towards his chest. Georgi’s fingers are dry and unexpectedly rough. Part of him just wants to curl up and sleep now, knowing that someone is there.

“Vitya, skating can’t love you back.”

He hums thoughtfully for a moment, lacing their fingers together. “My medals say otherwise.” There’s a sigh, and for a while Georgi doesn’t say anything, so Victor tries again. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Mm, for now. But no one can live without love forever.” He says it with his usual gravitas; it sounds impressive, but Victor thinks he’s really quite wrong.

“What do I have to do to get you to stop talking about it?”

Georgi leans down and gives him a clumsy kiss on the side of his mouth. It’s warm and damp, but kind of nice. “Be happy again.” They fall into another silence, and for a while there’s only the gentle sound of the rain outside. But then, unexpectedly hesitant, he adds, “can I do anything?”

Victor tilts his head  back in Georgi’s lap to look up at him. Despite how long they’ve known each other, they don’t usually talk much; in fact Victor’s not even sure he’d describe them as _friends_. But maybe they are, in their own way. He gives a faint smile, but it’s genuine, and Georgi’s eyes widen.

“This is good,” he says simply, and turns on his side to rest his cheek against the warmth of Georgi’s borrowed sweatpants. “Just stay.” He closes his eyes, holds Georgi’s hand tightly, and feels the other come to rest lightly on his side. Makkachin huffs softly, and shifts against him.

It doesn’t do much to ease the growing loneliness he keeps buried deep within him, but it helps. For now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Georgi week! (Day 3: love life/advice)
> 
> So, he is given two ages in the series; I went with the version where he's only a day apart from Victor.
> 
> I am very attached to them both.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](https://issushaim.tumblr.com/)


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